Gemotions

The letter lay open on the kitchen table, a silent accusation. Sarah’s hands were clammy, her fingertips ice-cold. She stared at the words, her gaze fixed, as if to ward off a predator. A chill snaked through her, leaving her body rigid.

She pushed the letter away, as if it burned her. The familiar scent of her grandmother's lavender soap, usually a comfort, now felt cloying and oppressive. Every creak of the house seemed amplified, each shadow lengthened.

She crossed her arms, hugging herself tightly. The silence was overwhelming, broken only by the frantic beat of her own pulse. She felt the need to flee, to escape the suffocating weight of this newly revealed truth. She considered calling her husband, but the words wouldn't form.